


A Collection of Short Stories

by OnlyKnownAsC



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Car Accident, Clans, Deaf Character, Each chapter is a different story, Mystery, Non-Graphic Violence, Original work - Freeform, Short Stories, attempted burglary, collection, handicapped character, i still don't know how to tag, mute character, obscure cults, original stories - Freeform, sudden darkness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-16 09:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16951794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyKnownAsC/pseuds/OnlyKnownAsC
Summary: Short, one chapter stories that I have nowhere else to put them. Enjoy!





	1. The Burglar and the Boy

Flashlight, check. Rope, check. Lock pick, check. Satchel, check. Dual pistols, check. Anthony Green looked over his supplies one more time before he slipped on the burglar mask and shimmied through the open window. He had been observing the target house for the past month. The owners had left for an overnight trip, which meant tonight was his one shot to get in and out undetected. Landing on the floor without a sound, Anthony slowly crept through the halls, making his way to the room he suspected to hold the most value. This said room had a triple bolted steel door, and no windows from the outside. Letting out the breath he had not realized he was holding, Anthony glanced around the darkened hall and stuck the flashlight in his gloved hand between his teeth. He pulled out the lock pick and silently began to jiggle it inside the lock, finally hearing a faint click.  _One down, two to go._ He thought. As quietly as the first, he quickly undid the next two locks, then slipped the lock pick back into his jacket pocket. Slowly cracking the door open, he slipped in, one hand on the gun holster at his hip. Taking the light from in between his teeth, he flashed it around the room quickly, hoping to see the glint of rare jewelry or ancient artifacts made of gold. Instead, a flash of iron, and a silhouette of a person.  _I thought no one was in the house?_ Anthony whipped out his pistol and found the light switch, flooding the room with glaring yellow, fluorescent lighting.  

_My stars_ _._  A sixteen year old boy sat hunched in the far right corner of the room, behind thick, iron bars. His hands were bound together by nearly an entire roll of duct tape. He peered up through his long, ratty brown hair, his dishwater-green eyes immediately flicking from Anthony’s masked face to the shiny black pistol in his hand.  

“Please...” The boy rasped, his voice nearly gone. “Just kill me.” Anthony simply stared for a moment, in shock. The boy stared back at him, eyes pleading. _“Please.”_ He begged yet again. Anthony, recovering, shook his head while shoving the pistol back into its holster. He pulled out the lock pick and began running his hands along the bars, finally finding the padlock. The teen watched him, mildly surprised as he unlocked the cell and swung it open wide. Anthony cringed slightly as loud squealing came from the bars as it opened, but quickly pushed his worry aside, instead gesturing for the boy to come out. When the teen simply stared back at him, confused, Anthony let out a sigh and went in the cell, pulling the boy up and hustling him out of the cell. 

“Why are you doing this?” The teen asked, clearly befuddled. He must not have expected any sort of rescue, especially not from an apparent burglar. Anthony simply rolled his eyes in response, flicking off the light and slipping through the door, gesturing for the boy to follow. Finally, the boy began to follow him, being as quiet as possible. The two crept down the hall to the window Anthony came in through. Looking at the boys duck taped hands, Anthony grimaced behind his mask.  _Why, oh why didn’t I bring a pocket knife_ _?_  He cursed himself for not being completely prepared. Thinking quickly, he pulled out his rope, tying one end around the boy’s duck taped hands. 

“What are you doing?” The teen asked, his voice wavering. Anthony looked up, his icy blue gaze softening slightly. He picked up the other end if the rope, then pointed at the window. The teen looked from the window, to him, and back, trying to figure out what he meant. Anthony sighed, and then lightly pushed him towards the window. He sat down on the ledge and swung his legs over the side, giving the boy a thumbs up. It was clear the boy still did not understand.  _We’re running out of time._ Anthony thought. As a last ditch effort, he gripped the rest of the rope tightly, then roughly managed to push the boy out of the window. The boy yelped as he dangled near the side of the house, and Anthony quickly gestures for him to be quiet. Catching on,  _finally,_ the teen planted his feet on the side of the wall to brace himself as Anthony lowered him to the ground. Once the boy was safely on the ground, Anthony followed suit, promptly untying the rope and shoving it back into his satchel. He looked over at the boy, who was staring at the moon in awe. 

“I’d forgotten what it was like...” The boy whispered. Anthony let the boy take everything in for a moment before calling his attention back to the goal at hand. While half of his burgling mind was telling him that all of this was a terrible idea, he should never get another human involved, the other half was telling him that this was bigger than any heist he had performed in the past. Anthony grabbed the boy’s duct taped hands in one of his, and gestured for the teen to come with him.  

 

After fifteen minutes of making their way through the shadows, they finally reached Anthony’s nearest safe-house. Dumping his satchel in a patched up, worn down Lay-Z-Boy, he quickly retrieved his pocket knife. The teen shied away from him at first upon seeing the knife, but when Anthony raised his hands and took a step back, pointing at the duct tape, he came over, looking relieved. As Anthony cut through the layers of duct tape, the boy relaxed slightly. 

“Thank you.” He exhaled, a look of gratitude shining in his eyes. Anthony smiled slightly, then remembered he still was wearing his mask. He paused a second, considering taking it off, but then simply resumed working at the tape.  

“I don’t even know your name.” The boy commented. Anthony glanced up at him, then hesitated. The boy had a right to know who helped him, at least. And his mask was getting uncomfortably warm and itchy. Setting down the knife, Anthony slowly took off his mask, shaking out his jet black hair to fix the hat-head appearance. He smiled slightly at the teen again, now that the boy could actually see his face, then set down the mask and went back to carefully cutting off the tape. 

“Huh, okay.” The boy said, mildly surprised at this action. Anthony finally cut through the last bit of tape, finally peeling it off of the teen’s skin then collecting all the bits and pieces to toss them in the trash. 

“Thanks again.” The teen thanked him, flexing his hands and shaking them out, allowing the blood flow to return to them. “You’re not much of a talker, are you?” He inquired, running a hand through his long, ratty hair. Anthony simply shook his head at this. He took off his gloves and dark jacket, tossing them onto the same chair as his satchel. Finally looking over the boy properly, he sighed.  _Thank the stars this safe-house has a shower_. He thought to himself. The boy could likely borrow some of his clothes, as long as he could find a belt for him to use. Anthony promptly found some of his older clothes and handed them to the boy showing him to the bathroom. As the teen cleaned himself up, Anthony began busying himself with packing. Now that he had successfully gotten in and out of the target house without technically being empty-handed, it was time to get out of the neighborhood. Having packed all the food, clothing, and tools he had obtained in the past month during his steak-out, he sat in the Lay-Z-Boy and waited for the teen to finish up.  

 

Finally, the boy came out wearing the grey t-shirt, jeans, and belt that Anthony had given him, seeming mildly annoyed that his hair kept falling in his face no matter how many times he tucked it behind his ears. Anthony smirked, then got up from his chair, retrieving a shoelace from one of his extra shoes. He could always get a new pair anyways. 

“What am I supposed to do with this?” The teen asked, confused.  _ Is he serious? _  Anthony thought, almost sniggering. He mimed tying hair back with it, then handed the shoelace to him. “Oh.” The teen blinked, realization striking him as he took the shoelace and used it as a makeshift  hair - tie . Sighing slightly, Anthony handed him the Post-It he had written on before the boy got out of the shower. 

“ ‘My name’s Andy?’ ” The teen read the note like a question. Anthony shrugged and nodded.  _Basically._  “Are you mute or something? Uh, not to be rude.” The teen asked nervously. Anthony grinned slightly and nodded. Understanding lit up in the boy’s eyes. “Oh! Well uh, I’m Joshua. Joshua Corvin. But you can call me Josh.” Once he said this, Joshua winced, realizing that the phrasing wasn’t quite the best. Anthony just smirked, pulling on a brown leather jacket. Josh seemed to finally notice the packed bags. Before asking about it, however, he seemed to think about it first.  

“You’re moving out because the house you were targeting is no longer your focus, right?” He eventually asked. Anthony grinned and winked, hefting a backpack onto his shoulder, his satchel slung over the other. Josh picked up the remaining bags and followed him out the door. The two of them loaded the trunk of Anthony’s car, and Anthony looked at Josh curiously when the boy slid into the passenger seat. 

“What?” He asked. Anthony just tilted his head slightly.  _Wouldn’t he want to go to the police about being locked up in a house or something?_ _Why would he come with me?_  He wondered. 

“I’m gonna need somewhere to hide from them, and I’m pretty sure you know where you’re going, at least.” Josh explained. “I’m guessing you didn’t really plan for me to come along, but you  _did_  rescue me and, uh, I don’t really have anywhere to go... If you don’t mind...?” 

Anthony mulled this over for a moment. He had been alone for years now, the most interaction before this being with cashiers at various stores, or his one client who was willing to buy whatever he managed to steal. He supposed he wouldn’t mind the company for once. Anthony tended to be spontaneous in his decisions, rarely thinking more than two steps ahead, so he hardly surprised himself when he nodded to Josh and quickly pulled out a Post-It and pen.  _Alright, but it’d be great if you could explain what happened to you on the way._  

“Okay. It’ll be pretty weird, but sure. Thanks, Andy.” Josh replied, relieved. Anthony smiled a bit as he put the car into drive.  _Things definitely were about to become even more interesting than before._  


	2. The Caretaker and the Child

"Darian, where did you go?" The young girl called grumpily. It was a spring afternoon, sunlight streaming into the library room via large windows paneling the far wall. 

"Right here, Madeline." The nearly-nineteen-year old replied, emerging from behind one of the shelves. He gave her a two-fingered salute, smiling as he approached her.

"Where are the friends who are coming today? Papa said they would be here by twelve, and it's nearly one." Madeline pouted, clearly unamused.

"Ah, there has been a minor setback, I'm afraid." Darian's cheery exposition faded into a look of uncomfortableness.

"What do you mean, minor setback?" The nine-year old demanded, her frown deepening. The stormy look on her face was unfortunately not uncommon. Madeline always seemed to find some issue or another which prevented her from being satisfied. Darian, having worked with her for three years now, was used to her demeanor, and always attempted to make her smile, but to no avail as of yet.

"The friends seem to have, erm, been busy today. Your Papa says that he is planning to find a better day for them to come over." Darian replied, giving her a smile. At this reply, however, Madeline's expression seemed to grow even darker.

“They are always busy! No one ever comes to play with me anymore.” She complained. Darian sighed, kneeling down next to the cranky child.

“And what am I, a stuffed toy?” He asked lightheartedly, not allowing her to see his uneasiness.

“You don’t count, you are  _supposed_ to play with me. It’s your  _job_ _.”_ Madeline scrunched her nose as she said this. The caretaker sighed, standing up. He didn’t like what was to come next. In fact, everything about this felt wrong. Madeline was a pain at times, yes, but just because of her Mental Sequence...?

“Miss Bellace, The Father requests your presence in the Lavender Room.” The voice of a Brother followed a brisk knock on the door. Madeline’s frown deepened into a glare, almost accusatory of Darian.

“Why would Papa call me to the Lavender Room? That is only for Cousins.” She demanded. Darian merely shrugged, his facial expression free of any possible clue of his thought process. He took the handles of Madeline’s chair and began wheeling her to the door when she swatted him away. “I can do it myself, thank you!” She snapped. He obliged, holding the door open for her as she wheeled herself out.

The child and her caretaker made their way through the halls, only stopping for Darien to hook her chair into the lift at the staircase, then unhook it once at the bottom. The pair arrived to the doors to the Lavender Room to be greeted by two Brothers, who bowed their heads when they opened the doors for them. 

The Lavender Room had been named as such for its decor. Sisters and Brothers constantly added fresh lavender in the flower pots every day, sustaining the thick smell of the flower which hung in the air. The walls likewise were painted a shade of the color, the trim of the walls accented in white. Everything was perfectly arranged, the polished wooden table perfectly in center, the eight chairs perfectly even all the way around. Even the few Nieces and Nephews who stood by the walls were alternating in a perfect pattern, specially trained to remain absolutely still, like statues. All this perfection only added to Darien’s unease. For while it was as pristine as a meeting room for Aunts and Uncles, it only highlighted the darker undertones of its use. At each seating place, excluding the head of the table, a simple pair of iron cuffs were attached to the surface of the table. The headboards of the chairs were stained a dark, flaky red color, which Darian knew was  _not_ paint. This room was meant for the Cousins. Those who had made mistakes they could not repair. Mistakes necessary to clean from the Family’s tree. Yet Madeline, a Daughter who had never caused a blemish to the Family name, was now being called to this room, all because of the discovery of her Sequence.

The Father sat at the head of the table, waiting patiently as Madeline entered, Darien silently trailing in after her. 

“Hello, Papa.” Madeline greeted the Father, who nodded in reply.

“Hello, Madeline. Please, take your place.” He gestured to his right, and Madeline wheeled herself to his side, Darien standing a few paces back from her own right as she did so. Madeline looked up to the Father, a questioning, yet respectful look in her eyes. The cranky frown lines had vanished, instead her face resembling that of a porcelain doll, entirely blank except for her eyes, both admiration and fear in them. It caused Darien’s uneasy mind to grow even more restless, on the brink of terror of how easily the Father could have such an effect on the young girl. “Do you know why I have called you here today?” The Father asked, his voice flat and professional. Madeline shook her head.

“No, Papa.” Darien inhaled sharply as the Father gestured for the doors to be open, a Brother and Sister, no, Cousins now, escorted in. Their faces were bruised, eyes on the floor as their Godparents led them to their seats. Madeline’s porcelain face had a look of confusion and questioning on it as she looked between the Father and Cousins. “I... Do not understand.” She said hesitantly. The Father sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder almost affectionately.

“Your Mental Sequence is quite strong now, is it not?” He asked. Madeline’s eyes widened, seeming as if she wanted to protest.

“I- Papa, I do not believe I can-”

“You do not believe it? My dear Madeline, do you not recall the policy regarding belief?”

“‘If there is a remote possibility that an event should take place, one must believe in such a possibility.’” The young girl recited. The Father nodded, satisfied.

“You know, then, what must be done.” He replied. Madeline nodded, her face becoming expressionless once again. The Father turned his attention to the Cousins, now seated at the table, hands firmly placed inside the cuffs. Their Godparents took their place by the doors silently, watching with little interest. “My children, you have failed us in a grave manner. You recognize the mistake you have made, and are willing to accept the consequences. Thus, we shall proceed-” The Father’s address was cut off by the lights going out, followed by what could simply be described as the sound of something massive powering down. The room fell silent as everyone waited for the backup generator to kick in.

It did not. 


	3. Dark

It was perfectly bright outside. This was not unusual for city nights, with the light pollution and all. Nights in the city were practically day, especially when you lived above Times Square. So, it was perfectly bright outside as I was seated at the half-opened window, typing up yet another essay for work. The noise of cars, late night tourists, and some event or another on the streets below was a familiar background hum as I worked. I was only halfway through when I heard screams coming from the streets below. I would have passed it off as excited exclamations to whatever event was being performed, but it clicked in my mind that these screams held a tone more of alarm than awe. Curious, I rose from my desk and went to peer out onto the street to see what exactly was causing the disturbance. What I saw took me a while to process, as the people on the ground were bunched up, circling something, though others seemed to be frantically running in different directions. I couldn’t make out what the crowd was circling from my vantage point, but it did not take long for me to discover. Whatever it was, another fell from the sky with a hollow  _thump._  Screams arose yet again, and I could faintly hear someone yell, _oh my God, there’s another one!_

I squinted to see what looked like a formless shape on the ground, until I faintly saw the color red splattered around where it had landed. I heard police sirens wailing in the distance as yet another body fell to the ground with a sickening  _thud._ Seconds after it hit the ground, the sound of something massive powering down echoed through the square. The lights on the ground levels of the buildings shut off synonymously, causing the people to let out yet more screams as I watched with an odd mix of awe and fear. The darkness seemed to creep up level by level as each floor’s lights shut off in unison, creeping up to my floor. The feeling of terror shot through me as something told me that I should  _not_  get caught with the lights off. I bolted from my apartment and ran towards the stairs, channeling all my energy into running up the flights of stairs to the roof. I bathed through the door to the roof and watched in horror as I saw the entire city grow dark. The last lights shut off, and I stood on the roof alone, acutely aware that the entire city had gone entirely silent. It was perfectly dark outside.


	4. The Guest and the Girl

It was late as Raia locked up for the night, ready for another futile attempt at sleep. Entering the kitchen, she took her pills from the medicine cabinet and a glass of water, downing them both as she imagines the crickets chirping outside. She figured she should probably drive into town tomorrow to schedule an appointment with her doctor. Yes, the pills were helping with her nightmares, but instead they were simply causing insomnia, so, not quite the best trade-out. Sighing, Raia sets down the glass and walks upstairs to check on the guest room. The Cousin who had arrived earlier was sound asleep for now. Satisfied, Raia began to head downstairs again, only to notice the bells throughout the house were ringing, signaling someone at the front door. Feeling the blood draining from her face, she swiftly returned to the guest room and shook the Cousin awake. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, the Cousin woke up, immediately becoming alert at the sight of Raia’s visible concern, and the consistent ringing of the bells. The Family had caught up to them, finally alerted to where the Cousin was housed, and Raia’s betrayal. Raia pried up a floorboard and pulled out two duffle-bags, handing one to the Cousin and slinging the other over her own shoulder. She knew one day this would happen and Ancestors damn it all if she hadn’t planned for this moment.

Straightening up, she glanced at the wall, seeing that the bells were no longer shaking furiously. The Cousin seemed more distressed now, repeating the same words over and over.  _They’re coming. They’re here._  Raia gestured for him to be silent, then led him down the hall to an empty wall, quickly pushing in a wooden panel, allowing the wall to slide open, the two slipping through the gap before she closed it behind them. She led the way down the stairs, through a hall, and up another set of stairs, emerging in the shed several yards away from the house. As the pair made their way away from the house, they could not help but glance over their shoulders every so often to make sure the Family didn’t spot them. As they reached the beginnings of the cornfield, however, Raia’s hearing aids, which had been dead for years though she never stopped wearing them, suddenly powered on only for her to hear the sound of something massive shutting down. The lights to her house, as well as the Family’s car lights, all shut off at the exact same time. For a moment, the only sound was of crickets chirping in the night, then there was a small popping sound as her hearing aids died, thrusting her yet again into silence.  _She hadn’t bothered putting batteries in them since last year._ The thought ran through her mind quickly before she turned and plunged into the corn, the Cousin quickly following behind her.

The two of them navigated through the field for what seemed like hours, panting from running yet too full of adrenaline and the possibility of being caught to stop. Finally, they reached the end of the field, a road stretching between them and the open grassy plains leading to the forest. They darted out into the road, the Cousin making it across first, turning to say something Raia couldn’t hear. She didn’t hear the sound of the approaching car, but she was aware of the lights gaining on her quickly. Reflexes kicking in, she ducked and rolled out of the way, the car’s wheels barely missing her. As she rolled out of the way however, her head hit the ground in an awkward position, causing a sharp pain to overtake her as her sight went black.


End file.
